


Anticipation

by thegreymoon



Category: Finder no Hyouteki | Finder Series
Genre: Anal Sex, Dubious Consent, Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, M/M, Minor Violence, Oral Sex, Possessive Behavior, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-24
Updated: 2009-11-14
Packaged: 2021-01-29 07:37:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 19,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21406552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegreymoon/pseuds/thegreymoon
Summary: Akihito is down with a cold... in Asami's apartment.
Relationships: Asami Ryuichi/Takaba Akihito
Comments: 8
Kudos: 101





	1. Anticipation

**Author's Note:**

> This is an old fic that has been up on LJ and other places for years. Please heed the warnings, people! If you are not familiar with the Finder fandom, you may want to google it before reading.

Asami lit his cigarette and watched with detachment as the street lights illuminated the first falling snow. It was dark already, the days were getting short and his nights had strangely become too cold for him to spend alone. The sterile emptiness of his luxurious apartment was overbearing and he found that the sole sound of his own breathing in the vast silence bothered him more than he was prepared to handle. He frowned, disgusted with himself, but he was far too gone down this dangerous road of need to be able to lie to himself about it anymore. His growing desire for his boy's closeness made him careless and weak and the only thing worse than this was the fact that he was fully aware of it, yet he could do nothing at all to stop himself from feeling so much, because the very thought of removing Takaba permanently from his life hurt too much to be endured. Who could have guessed that at the height of his power he would find himself longing for the company of another human being? And that, no less, of a cheeky, stubborn, dirty little punk who had no more style than he had common sense. He could not decide what was more pathetic; the fact that he had not yet managed to bend the impudent brat to his will, or his desperate need to do so, to have him and to bind him until he was trapped and cornered and had nowhere to go. It was torture in a way, this whirlwind of emotion that brought to the surface so much of his inner darkness. His every instinct screamed for him to hunt his wayward boy and all that Takaba's resistance had ever managed to do was to make this desire in him burn all the more stronger. He wanted to devour him, to possess him, to take him so completely that there would be nothing of him left that did not bear his mark upon it, until Takaba was so utterly his, that there could never be any doubt about it again, in either of their minds.

He stubbed out his cigarette with more violence than was necessary, frustrated and impatient beyond reason. The foul weather put him in a foul mood and the perpetual grey of the sodden streets made him irritable. The snow melted into filthy water the moment it touched the ground and people plodded through it in a hurry, looking straight ahead of themselves, busy, huddled and worried. Utterly insignificant in the grand scheme of his existence.

Where was Takaba? By his calculation, he should have been out of the ugly building half an hour ago and Asami hated waiting for anything. He could send his men inside to fetch his boy, but he did not feel like causing a scandal that would put his unwilling lover in a particularly sulky mood for the rest of the night. But more importantly, if he did send his men inside to get him, it would certainly be noticed, even if Takaba swallowed his fiery temper in front of his colleagues and came along quietly. Asami's fascination with him had already gathered the attention of too many dangerous individuals whose notice he would have rather avoided. He could not protect him like this; Takaba was too wild, too unpredictable, too prone to getting himself into trouble… too precious to be risked.

A moment of dark fear snaked through him and he smothered it with anger. He had never been a man capable of anything even remotely resembling love and that worked against him now, when he found himself so unexpectedly, so unacceptably emotionally attached to this… child.

Irritated, he lit another cigarette and glanced towards the entrance, shocking himself with the sheer relief he felt when he saw Takaba coming out at last. His boy was a mess, tired, wet and dirty, all the signs of some stake-out or other gone terribly wrong, and still the very sight of him stirred him so profoundly, that he had to fight for control to keep his cool. Takaba was a spot of bright colour in the midst of the miserable, ugly winter, among the countless many grey, expressionless people and it made his heart leap as he watched him run across the street. He caused a commotion in the traffic as a driver braked suddenly to avoid running him over and then stuck out his head to swear.

Takaba was wearing an atrocious, red sweater and torn, dirty jeans. He blew warm air on to his hands and hugged himself, trembling visibly from the cold. He had no jacket on and he was wet, as if a speeding car had sloshed him while he was standing on a sidewalk. His face was smudged and his hair messy and plastered, but he still shone, golden and bright, as if he was a child of the sun itself and carried its rays with him even when the clouds were so thick, that the clear sky seemed to be nothing but a memory of a half-forgotten dream.

He really should get the boy some decent clothes, Asami thought to himself, knowing very well that he would be flatly refused. Takaba was a walking embarrassment to a man like him who demanded nothing less than perfection both from himself and from those he chose as partners in bed. He really should teach him how to dress, but he still enjoyed watching him slosh down the street such as he was, wet and ragged but still so brightly, so wonderfully alive that everything faded into shadows of utter insignificance as he passed by.

Takaba had not seen him yet and that alone spoke how worn out and tired the boy was, because he usually was much more alert than this. Asami waited for that first moment of realization to strike Takaba's face when he saw his car and glowing with anticipation, he was not disappointed. It all lasted only a moment, but he knew how to watch for it; the widening of those remarkable eyes, the surprise, the denial, the touch of fear before it was all washed clean in a wave of pure anger which Asami's sudden appearance, especially in public, never failed to inspire.

Takaba glanced around himself, looking for a way to escape, but then he saw Asami's men standing close, waiting for him to make a foolish move so that they could run after him and bring him back by force. Takaba had had enough of such experiences to know better, so after only a moment of hesitation, he squared his shoulders with tense determination and stalked over towards the car with a frown plastered all over his face. His cute, full little mouth curved downwards and Asami felt a pang of desire tighten in his gut as he imagined kissing it roughly into willingness, forcing obedience upon it and then drinking the smothered gasps from its moist, warm depths. Nobody had a mouth like Takaba and nobody kissed like he did, so unwilling to begin with and yet so greedy and eager once he was aroused.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Takaba demanded when Asami scrolled down his window to look at him.

"I came to pick you up," Asami said. "You have been running wild for too long."

"Running wild?" Takaba yelled in outrage. "And what is that to you? You do not own me!"

It was so hard sometimes to let him get away with such declarations. He would have to remember to make him pay for this one with interest later on, when he had him desperate, bound and begging.

"Akihito, I am sure that this is not a conversation that you want to have in the middle of the street," Asami said evenly. "Get into the car."

"The hell I will!" he cried. "I am not going anywhere with you!" The silent, dark bodyguard opened the door for him and Takaba glowered.

"Akihito, you do not want me to make a scene in front of your employers, do you?" Asami warned in a calm, low voice that carried depths of threat and promise in it. Takaba turned, following his cold gaze to see his fat superior and the slender woman that he worked for by his side, his anger melting to shock and then into real fear.

"Well?" Asami asked.

"No," Takaba whispered, defeated.

"Get into the car. Now." Asami repeated. "If you make me tell you again, you will thoroughly regret it."

Takaba scowled at him, but after one last, despairing glance at the imposing building he had just left and all the people he knew coming out of it, he did as he was told, crawling into the corner of the limo to pout, as far away from Asami as he could manage, crossing his arms tightly across his chest and glaring at the floor.

Asami smiled to himself, amused by his attitude. His boy really was cute when he sulked like this, desperately fighting a losing battle because they both knew what was coming and how this night would end. The thought of it turned him on unbearably and he already ached from desire, Takaba's closeness having its usual effect on his body after so many days of abstinence, because he had lately begun to find every other lover he tried to indulge in as sorely lacking in every possible way. He would teach his boy proper respect one of these days and he would very much enjoy the process, but not yet. He wanted to enjoy him such as he was for just a little while longer and then he would break him into a good little pet. But, it was amazing really, how much brighter his day suddenly seemed with Takaba finally by his side, in his car and the whole night of doing wicked things to him still ahead of them both.

Had he really been in a foul mood coming here? Suddenly, it was so hard to imagine, as if it had never been real at all. He drew in the bitter smoke of his cigarette, grinning when Takaba scowled up at him under the overlong fringe of his wild hair. Really, before Takaba had turned up in his life, he had forgotten how much fun living could actually be.


	2. Night

The night was dark and the darkness spilled all over Asami's bedroom under the muted lights which gave away only so much to allow them to see. Even the sheets on the huge, impeccably made bed were dark and darkness pooled in the shadows of Asami's eyes, hiding their fire from Takaba's gaze, but somehow that frightened him more than it would have if he had seen it bared in living daylight.

Sudden memories welled to the surface, bringing with them fear. He remembered being trapped and helpless and he shuddered violently. He remembered the relentless strength of Asami's arms, his demanding mouth, the terrible, merciless size of him and his inhuman stamina that Takaba could not keep up with, but had to endure anyway.

He turned on a sudden instinct to flee, seriously doubting his rationale in willingly coming here with his tormentor. He did not get far, because Asami was there, behind him and Takaba's breath broke on a frightened gasp as the man shut the door with a decisive thud, his cruel, cruel mouth lifting in an evil smirk as if he had read Takaba's mind.

Takaba watched with wide eyes as Asami turned the key in the lock, hearing it click slowly. Once. Twice. The bastard, he was doing this to him on purpose, because he must have known that it would make Takaba's heart leap just like that and then contract, as if trying to flee and then to hide when escape turned out to be impossible. Never taking his eyes away from him, Asami pulled the key out, putting it aside, out of Takaba's reach.

There was no way out.

Something about the way that Asami walked made Takaba back away from him when he approached, without even thinking about it. Asami's every move spoke of power, of control. His grace emphasized his frightening strength and his calm the danger that lurked underneath. He practically dripped with dark promise, all the more terrifying in this quiet solitude of his intimidating world which Takaba, by all rights, should never have entered.

Why the hell didn't he make a scandal when he'd had the chance? To hell with his job, his reputation, his entire life as he knew it; he should have screamed when he had seen Asami that evening and maybe, just maybe if he had made enough noise, the eternal nightmare of the man would have gone away. Probably only to come back later when he was helpless and alone and punish him accordingly for thwarting his intentions, but still…

Takaba stepped backwards, but to his dismay, his back hit a cool, solid surface soon enough and there was nowhere left to go. He shuddered all over from the impact and Asami was there, leaning his arms to the wall on the both sides of his head, not touching, but trapping him, flooding him with the warmth of his body and the scent of his flesh. Asami's overbearing closeness made Takaba' head spin and when he leaned down as if to kiss him, Takaba squeezed his eyes shut, because that was the only retreat that he still had.

Asami laughed and his hot breath against Takaba's neck sent shocks of sensation down his spine, making him moan and his erection twitch. To his eternal mortification, he grew hard in a matter of seconds just from the simple promise Asami emanated and he shivered in anticipation, but he could hardly decide through the overload of sensation in his hazy mind whether it was from fear or desire.

"You are trembling," Asami said, pressing his lips to the soft hollow under Takaba's jaw and licking, making him shudder and arch.

Takaba scowled up at him brilliantly, because he would be damned if he would let the bastard know that he was afraid, or worse yet, that he wanted this, had wanted it for days and that he had missed his attention beyond all good reason when the man had not sought him out for longer than was usual.

"I am cold," Takaba said and Asami smiled down at him, pressing against him, making him feel his hard, massive erection against his own, much smaller one and it was frightening even through layers of both of their clothes, but it still connected to some twisted part of Takaba's brain and he hardened almost completely just from the touch of it, (which was, of course, Asami's fault, because he was the one who had awakened that side of him).

"Are you?" Asami said, pulling Takaba close and then pinning him so that the boy was trapped between the wall and his strong body. "Come here, then. Let me warm you."

Takaba moaned as he was caught in a deep, desperate kiss, forgetting to fight him and opening his mouth to the invading caress of Asami's demanding tongue. It wasn't that he wanted this, but it was true that his clothes were wet and it only made sense to let Asami undress him. He was shivering all over, but that was from the cold, surely it was from the cold and had absolutely nothing to do with Asami's strong hands gliding all over his bare skin.

Asami was warm, so wonderfully, comfortably warm and Takaba had been stuck out in the cold for the whole miserable day, so that was why it felt good to press up against him and melt into his caress, to let his hot hands slide over his naked flesh and not resist as they moved without hesitation to explore all the intimate, sensitive spots, making him writhe, tremble and moan.

He wasn't having trouble breathing, was he? But there suddenly seemed to be a distinct lack of oxygen in his proximity, so that must have been the reason why his heart was beating so erratically and loudly and he broke the kiss when he couldn't take it anymore, gasping for air and closing his eyes to ride out the flood of sensations that threatened to rip him to parts.

He felt strangely weak and lightheaded, so it was reasonable to hold on to Asami with such desperation and it was only natural to find so much pleasure in touching him, in burying his face in Asami's neck to breathe in deeply the scent of his skin, because Asami smelled clean and luxurious and it was inexplicably, unbearably arousing. It certainly wasn't Takaba's fault that the subtle scents of tobacco and expensive cologne clung to Asami's impeccable clothes, to his soft, dark hair and turned him on without a fail. And it was just a coincidence that Asami smelled of all the things that Takaba's treacherous senses seem to like, he just hadn't been aware that he liked them before he had met the man. The heat of Asami's body truly felt so incredibly good, that he could not help but to desperately rip down the expensive shirt from Asami's shoulders and bare more of his flawless chest. He pressed his mouth against it, wanting to drink in all of that wonderful warmth which he sorely seemed to be lacking and it felt as if he would die right then and there from a pure overload of sensation.

But he hated Asami and there was no doubt about that. Asami was cruel, Asami was evil. He was a complete bastard who did not hesitate to take advantage of Takaba when he felt like it, only to leave him all alone again when he had had his entertainment, without so much as a goodbye (not that Takaba wanted him to stay around afterwards, but it hurt anyway) and just thinking about it produced a bout of true chagrin, which Takaba clung to with infinite gratitude, because when Asami did those things with his tongue to his very sensitive ears, he tended to forget all about his misgivings.

He tended to forget a lot of things in Asami's arms and he wondered if enjoying this twisted game of lust and control qualified as temporary insanity, because he couldn't possibly even like Asami, let alone love him, in spite of the fact that he had wonderfully soft lips and that he kissed with incredible skill (which, by the way, he had no doubt gained through bountiful practice with people other than Takaba). And no, that was not jealousy that he felt when he thought about someone else touching Asami's perfect skin, just righteous indignation, because Takaba was there, in his luxurious apartment, only because he had no other choice.

"Just so you know…" Takaba breathed out, finding it very hard to say the simplest things. "I don't want this, it is your fault and I… ah, you bastard… I hate you… so much!"

Asami's eyes narrowed dangerously and he kissed him hard, with ruthless, unnecessary force, making his lip bleed. "Quiet," he said in a hoarse, breathless voice when he pulled back. "Just… be quiet!"

He picked Takaba up and flung him down face first on to the bed, coming down upon him and pinning him to the mattress before he had had the chance to try and wiggle away. He looked at his boy with darkness swirling in his eyes and Takaba shuddered under him, making one final attempt to squirm out of his grasp, because arousal or no arousal, he did not exactly look forward to what Asami was going to do.

"You… owe me quite enough for tonight…" Asami breathed and bit down hard on Takaba's sensitive nape. "Do not make me add more to your debt."

Owe him? What did he mean by owe him?

Takaba twisted his head around and scowled up at him. "I have no idea what you are talking about and I… Ah… No! No, stop it, no… you bastard! Aaah!"

Asami was big and it had been long enough for it to hurt even with someone of a less intimidating size. It was punishment and Takaba knew it when Asami decided to forego all foreplay, simply stretching him open with two lubed fingers and then pushing inside with relentless insistence. The size of him was agony and Takaba's eyes filled with tears as his body contracted around the intruder, fighting to deny him entrance.

"It is too late for 'no' between us, my sweet little rabbit," Asami growled in a low, dangerous voice and bit down on Takaba's sensitive ear. "You are mine and you will endure this!"

"I… I am not…!" Takaba attempted a choked, futile protest until it broke on a cry he could not hold back when Asami forced himself another inch into his resisting body.

"You are," Asami said simply and tightened his hold on Takaba's hips, stilling his squirms and making him take it. "And you have still not learned your lesson in surrender."

Takaba whimpered and clenched the sheets desperately, biting his lip to stop himself from crying out aloud. There was nowhere to go, no way to stop this, even if his treacherous body had not been responding to it like it was, in spite of the bitter pain. Asami claimed him slowly, inch by agonizing inch, pulling out only to push inside again, every time a little deeper than before, forcing him open even as he stroked his painfully hard, leaking cock that fit so nicely into his large, elegant hand, rubbing his thumb over the sensitive, weeping head and making Takaba scream as he was ripped between the dual, equally intense sensations of pleasure and pain.

"P… please… ah…please!" he begged. "You are being too rough!"

Asami licked a line over his nape and Takaba moaned, bucking against him involuntarily and impaling himself completely upon the hard, thick length that pierced him. Asami gasped and pinned him down hard, until Takaba could scarcely breathe under his weight and his heat.

"Do you think you deserve it," Asami asked, kissing his neck, "for me to be gentle?"

"It hurts!" Takaba sobbed and twisted his head around to rub his cheek against Asami's in supplication. "Please, it has been too long… and you are too big… please, it hurts!"

"Shh…" Asami whispered into his hair. "Relax and let me in. It will hurt so much less that way. Your resistance is your punishment. You know that."

Takaba hid his face in the pillow, biting down and hopelessly trying to silence the cries he made. Asami raised himself above him, holding him down with a hand at the base of his spine and set an even, torturous pace of long, slow thrusts destined to last forever, filling him completely and then pulling out, hitting his prostate each time, until the pain and the pleasure molded into one, each too sharp and distinct to be muffled by the other, but neither strong enough to prevail. The pain kept him from cumming and the pleasure held him on the very edge. Asami knew him, all his limits and his responses and he could go on like this for a long, long time, for much longer than Takaba could stand it.

"S… stop," he begged, his voice getting weaker and more desperate with each plea, until he was pushed past coherent speech and then past reasonable thought.

There would be no mercy, no reprieve. Takaba knew what came next. It would go on and on, until he cried from frustration, until he no longer even knew how to beg and all that remained was Asami, filling his body, filling his mind, taking over his entire world. Until he was pushed past all resistance and there was nothing left to deny his captor anything he wanted.

"Who do you belong to?" the question would come and Takaba would thrash his head from side to side, as if to avoid the answer.

"Who do you belong to?" Asami would ask, until even the pleasure became unbearable torture and the pain a welcome relief, until Takaba began to think that he would die under him, in his arms, from his lips.

"Who do you belong to?" Over and over again, until at last, Takaba had to answer.

"You."


	3. Doubts

Asami lay beside Takaba and watched him sleep. His breath was quiet and peaceful and it was soothing.

He had not felt like this in… a long time. He did not even want to remember, but memories came back unbidden and he shuddered. A decade and a half since he had last loved. It was too long and yet not, because he had vowed that it would never happen again, that he would never be so vulnerable again, never hurt again, never trust again and never be so betrayed again. So why was it happening? Again.

Yet, this was love, it had to be. Because only love could make him want like this and fear like this and make him spiral out of control from simple rejection that was not even honestly meant. What would he do if Takaba really began to hate him, because he could not believe that he did so now, in spite of the fact that he said it often enough? Because though Takaba guessed at what he was, he had not yet seen the full extent of the darkness that lurked behind the cool façade of his flawless beauty.

What would he do when the physical attraction wore away? He had nothing else to hold Takaba with and he guessed that, in time, he would need his bright little lover far more than Akihito would ever need him.

It was inevitable that there would come a day when Takaba would love and be loved in return and it would be the real thing, the deep, noble, selfless emotion that Asami had never felt, the feeling that was so different from his dark, desperate longing, the intense desire that caused him actual, physical pain, like a ring constricting around his chest until he could hardly breathe from the strength of its grip.

He guessed that if given half a chance, Takaba would run from the whole mess of their twisted relationship, never to look back. There were times when he actually felt that he would not have the strength to hold him and the fear was terrible to endure. The madness of such dark moments made him take his lover by force, made him rough and uncompromising, because that alone calmed the doubts raging in his reeling mind.

When Takaba cried under him, hating it and wanting it at the same time, Asami believed that he was truly his, because he was so helpless to deny him anything he wanted, just like he was unable to deny himself the pleasure that he did not want to feel under the relentless pain. When he made him say it out aloud, driving him beyond the limits of endurance, he was certain that Takaba would never leave because he would not let him. Only then, he did not doubt in his power and it felt like he could hold this precious thing as his own forever.

Then there were the days when everything was bearable, when it almost felt good to have Akihito by his side in a way different from the good of a mind-blowing orgasm, when they were together without having sex and not fighting at the same time. When Takaba sat beside him, eating some disgustingly sweet concoction and sticking out his cute little tongue at him when he teased him about it, when he lay on his lap in the luxurious limo after an intense session of very satisfying sex, when they didn't speak and the silence between them said all that words could never say. At such times, he almost allowed himself to hope that maybe, just maybe, it could be different this time and that he too would be worthy of being loved by a person who knew how to love and he would almost say it aloud to Takaba, the terrible admission, that he loved him already.

And then there were the times when he knew that he was deluding himself, longing for something that he could never have, because Takaba would never love him, because Asami could own him, both body and soul, but if he did not let him go once Takaba really wanted to leave, all that would remain for him would be pure and undiluted hate. He had already learned that lesson once and he had learned it well. There was only so much that all his money and his influence could do and he knew their limits, because beyond certain point, all that they could cause was destruction.

Takaba didn't know that he had such a terrible, devastating power over him and Asami would never let him find out, because that was what made all the desperate difference between them. Only while he held the control over this relationship, Asami could hope to keep it alive. He did not trust himself enough to be able to trust someone else with his heart, because black as it was, it could still love and it could still hurt. He had tried very hard to cure it from such degrading emotions, but had obviously failed miserably in his attempts, so how could he hope to control another when he couldn't even control himself?

He should not have brought Takaba here, to his apartment, but he had needed to make love to him in his own bed, to have him there, to feel him and to sleep beside him. He had really wanted it and he was so tired, because he could not even remember when he'd last had a full night's sleep, but he felt that he would not be able to handle the rejection that was sure to come in the morning, when Takaba woke up beside him.

Akihito looked so warm and inviting, a heavy little bundle curled up under the sheets, his bright hair messed and dishevelled, his cheeks flushed and his mouth slightly open, innocent, peaceful and oblivious. He lay on his tummy, his head pillowed on his arm, with the sheets just far enough down to bare his neck, his shoulders and the upper curve of his graceful spine. Asami rarely felt the need to kiss someone without a most thorough involvement of the tongue, but he felt it now. And why not? Takaba was a heavy sleeper and he was tired enough. He would not wake up, he would never know anything about it.

Coming to this satisfying conclusion, Asami shifted over to his boy and kissed him, first his soft lips and then the tender lids of his eyes. Takaba's lashes fluttered open and Asami could tell that he was not really awake when he looked at him.

"A… Asami?" he questioned sleepily and sank against him when Asami drew close, enough to share his warmth, enough for bare skin to touch down the entire length of their bodies.

"Go back to sleep," Asami said softly and kissed his messy hair. With a sigh, Takaba turned to his side and settled again. Asami curled around him, putting his heavy arm around his boy's slender waist, holding him close, drowning in the bliss of his warmth and it was good like it had been good when he had imagined it, when he had dreamed about it and wanted it and longed to do it just like this, only it was much, much better now that it was real.

Gently, he ran his hand over Takaba's bare arm, finding his skin to be unusually warm against his own. He gathered his hair and pushed it out of the way to kiss the hot nape hidden underneath, letting his mouth linger against it, breathing in deeply the scent of him and loving it. Akihito moaned in his sleep and shifted a little to escape him, so wonderfully sensitive in that particular spot, that it was a sheer pleasure to touch him there and watch him squirm.

Takaba's warmth lulled all his fears and he could hardly remember why he had been reluctant to do this. What possible reason could he have not to? He had every right to it, Takaba was his and his alone and nothing could change that. He would let nothing change it. Ever. Besides, he could always wake up before Takaba did and then everything would be fine. He would rouse his boy with kisses before he had a chance to tell him how much he hates him and make love to him again, gently this time, to make up for his harshness from the previous night.

It was a sweet resolution and he surrendered to it, smiling as he thought about it and buried his face in Takaba's hair. His body relaxed and he sank into bliss, letting the first wave of sleep take him over.

Rrrrr… rrrrr… rrrrr

The sound of his phone ringing raced through his blood like the shock of cold water against overheated skin. No.

Rrrrr… rrrrr… rrrrr

It rang again and there was no denying it, no ignoring it and he was awake in a matter of seconds, hating it. He was going to kill somebody for this. He had made it clear that no calls were to be passed his way for the night unless it was an absolute fucking emergency that could not be handled without him, under any circumstances.

"Asami speaking," he said into the phone and listened in irritation as the voice on the other side explained. Apparently, it was precisely that.

Feeling a dark headache growing, he resisted the urge to scream. He did not want to do this, not now. He would have given half of his fortune not to have to go out right then, to be allowed to stay in bed, with the warm, comfortable weight of his lover curled snugly at his side and he would have given the other half just to be able to hurl the infuriating phone against the wall and watch it shatter to pieces.

"I'll be there as soon as I can," he heard himself say and wondered with a strangely detached piece of his mind at the even calm in his own voice.

He cut the line and did not break the phone. Rubbing his temples with his hand, he lingered only a moment longer, but the pleasure and the comfort he had been allowed to feel for such a brief time had already dissipated into nothing and all that remained were problems.

Feeling angry, cheated and mad with frustration that his chronic lack of sleep magnified a hundred times over, he got up and went to the shower. The ones who had dared to betray him tonight would be so very sorry for it before the morning. They would find out the hard way why it was a very, very bad idea to cross him. They would die and they would die slowly and the last image that they would take from this world, before he had their eyes stamped out, would be that of his face.

When he was dressed and ready to go, he turned once more to look at Takaba's peacefully sleeping form and most of his anger melted into a feeling of deep loss, as if something he had been on the brink of achieving, something vital and important, something warm and wonderful, had been taken away from him only seconds before he'd have had it in the grasp of his hand.

With a desperation he could not even begin to control, a single desire took form in every last corner of his dark, solitary being and he wished like he had never wished for anything before, that Takaba would still be there, in the morning, when he came home.


	4. Dawn

Takaba woke up to the dim interior of a room that was not his own. He knew it even before he had opened his eyes, because the bed he was in was a thing of pure luxury that fit nowhere nearly within the limits of his budget, or the tiny confines of his little apartment.

"Asami?" he questioned sleepily and was greeted by silence. He was alone and he did not need to look around, or to feel the vast emptiness under the covers beside him to know that he was not there. He felt Asami's presence without looking and he would have known where he was both in darkness and in dense silence, with nothing to give him away except for the fact that he was there.

"Bastard," he seethed, finding his lover's absence to be surprisingly painful, more so than it usually was when Asami scorned and neglected him, but he was feeling too sick and too miserable to berate himself for it and pretend that it did not hurt. And why was he so surprised? He refused to learn, even though he was shown time and time again exactly how low his significance rated in the grand scheme of Asami's life, because he did not really even qualifying as a person, but more as a toy. He couldn't even say pet, because people loved their pets and took care of them.

"I hate him, I hate him, I hate him!" he cried and struck out violently against the mattress. He buried his face in the pillow to muffle the scream he could not contain and it ended in a violent fit of painful coughing that irritated his raw, burning throat. When it calmed, he lay there limply, spent by the violence of his reaction, sobbing quietly as he easily lost the battle with himself. The bed still smelled of Asami and of everything they had done during the night and he shut his eyes tightly to stop his tears, but they kept welling up and leaking under his lashes. He knew that he should hate himself for his weakness, for letting the man get to him after he had sworn to himself over and over again that he would not let him, that he would not love him and that he wouldn't care.

He tried to get himself under control and though it was an honest attempt, it failed, because he was too vulnerable, too miserable and in too much in pain to achieve anything. He tried getting out of bed and couldn't even manage that. His entire body hurt; his head felt as if it had grown several sizes too large and then filled out with a hot mist that muffled his thoughts and dizzied his coordination. It was heavy, as if it did not belong to him and his blocked nose made his ears buzz in a most unpleasant manner. His neck hurt enough to make the effort of moving a very daunting task and the pain spread down his spine to pool in the small of his back, where it was very vivid and still very fresh after Asami's most thorough and not-so-gentle attention from the previous evening.

"It is allhis fault," Takaba muttered pitifully and covered his head with the sheet, but once he discovered that he couldn't breathe underneath, he quickly squirmed out again. He knew that he should not have gotten wet yesterday and that he should not have forgotten his coat when he was forced to run after he was discovered by the bodyguards of the politician he had been so very willing to get a big scoop on and solve all his monetary issues with. And to make matters worse, he had not gotten anything from it other than what appeared to be a very ugly cold, one like he had not experienced in a long time.

But it was still Asami's fault, because in the end, everything turned out to be his fault, one way or another. If he had not ambushed him when he had been leaving work yesterday, Takaba would have gone home, had a hot bath, put on something dry and stayed warm all night, drinking hot chocolate. If he had done so, then it was likely that none of this misery would ever have happened. It certainly did not help that after his very bad day, he had been threatened, abducted and thoroughly fucked in a most wicked and pitiless manner, only to be miserably abandoned immediately afterwards.

Takaba shuddered, remembering.

Asami had disassembled him piece by piece until he had been opened and revealed, until there had been nothing left of him that Asami had not touched and marked as his own. He had been punished for resistance with insane pleasure and once he had surrendered to him, he had been completely taken, until there was nothing of his that belonged to him anymore. In the midst of his defeat, he had cried, frightened by the intensity of what this man could make him feel and how thoroughly he owned him to be able to do that. But he had been kissed, gently, lovingly, like Asami never kissed until Takaba was pushed beyond reasonable thought. He remembered soothing whispers, nonsense that couldn't be put into sentences, but which still said all that he had ever wanted to hear.

He had been wanted, he was precious and he was cherished.

He had been loved and comforted, until he no longer felt fear in Asami's arms, but perfect joy. In the end, he could not remember why it had seemed like a bad thing to belong to him, or why he had fought it so hard.

"I am yours," he had said and he had meant it and Asami had still left him, after he had made him feel so much, after he had made him walk the brink of insanity, made him come over and over again, until he couldn't take it anymore and begged with hugs, with touches and with kisses when nothing else seemed to work. Asami had laughed at his tears, but still Takaba remembered being held through it all and it had been wonderful to be in Asami's arms, because they were so strong and warm and they felt so incredibly safe. He had experienced moments of pure, wonderful insanity when he felt as if he would willingly lose himself in all of his darkness, never to come up again, because it had felt welcome and friendly to him then, almost loving, as if Asami could ever even comprehend love.

The very thought of staying another minute in Asami's bed suddenly seemed unbearable to Takaba and he hated himself for everything he had said and done. He had surrendered, only to be discarded and humiliated once more, when he was at his most vulnerable. Every remaining tingle of Asami's touch that still lingered on his hot, burning skin became torture, like a million spiders crawling all over his body and he felt disgusting.

Crying with the effort it took to raise himself, Takaba crawled out of bed and barely caught himself as his world spun out of control. Whimpering, he slid down on to the floor, still holding tight on to the bed and he stayed there for a long while, fighting to regain his strength. He needed a shower and he needed it badly. He imagined that he could still smell Asami all over his skin, even though his nose was so thoroughly blocked, he couldn't even breathe. His body was unbearably hot, but he still shivered and he looked across the room towards the bathroom door with despair, as if it was miles away and not only a few feet. He felt as if the endeavour would kill him, but he couldn't bear the thought of what Asami had done to him the night before. He couldn't stand the fact that he was in his apartment, trapped and alone, and that it was his treacherous body working against him to keep him there. Finally, he managed to get up and stagger away, fuelled by nothing but self-loathing, despising himself for ever feeling anything towards Asami other than hate. Really, when would he learn?

He barely made it into the shower before he slid down against the glass pane, his breath gone hard and ragged. His head spun, making bright colours explode in front of his hurting eyes and forcing him to squeeze them shut to be able to escape into the darkness. The cool tiles felt good against his skin and he somehow managed to turn on the water. The spray of it almost came as a relief and he crouched there for a long time, doing nothing except letting it wash away all his nauseating guilt.

It seemed a lot later, though it couldn't have been more than half an hour, when the water finally went cold and drove him out of his sanctuary. He did not bother to turn the shower off and didn't care about the mess he left as he dripped all over the brightly polished wooden floor. He dragged down one of the large, white, wonderfully soft towels from the shelf and managed to wrap himself almost completely into one, the size of it making it fold around his slender body almost like a robe.

Clothes, he needed clothes. He wouldn't get far wearing nothing but a towel. The idea of going out seemed daunting and he remembered that he had no jacket. The snow had modulated back into rain while he slept and he could hear the soft rustle of it against the windows. He should try to find an umbrella somewhere among Asami's belongings, but the very thought of undertaking a search of any kind was more than he could handle, which told him something about the miserable state that he was in. Normally, he would have welcomed the chance of spending a couple of hours alone in Asami's apartment with open arms, because he was sure that the big scoop he was dreaming of had to be there, or if not the scoop itself, then at least a clue of its whereabouts.

He found his clothes in a several soft little piles all across the room, still lying around where they had been dropped the previous evening and the task of getting dressed almost proved itself beyond him. By the time he pulled on his torn jeans and his dirty shirt, he was barely hanging on to his consciousness and he had to give in to his weakness and crumple down beside the bed. Moaning and fighting to draw in enough breath, he leaned his forehead against the foot of the bed and the cool wood felt wonderful against his overheated skin. Even his very thoughts seems strangely distant and disconnected from this new agony. Through the haze of his dizziness, he remembered that his hair was wet and that it wouldn't be good to walk outside like that, sick as he already was. Then, within moments, his mind went blank and only the discomfort of illness still throbbed in the background, disrupting his blessed unconsciousness.


	5. Worry

Asami fumbled with his keys, pulled out the one he needed and then looked up at the door.

He froze, because it was open a crack and a spear of light pierced through the darkness of his hall. A thousand evil thoughts clambered in his mind, fighting for dominance and he pushed them down with stern determination. He gained control over himself with practiced certainty, cool logic and deduction winning almost instantly over the initial bout of stress that this breach in his flawless security had caused.

He reached under his coat, touching the solid weight of the gun strapped at his hip. The cool metal was warmed by the heat of his flesh and he pulled it out as he pushed at the door. The darkness inside gave away nothing at the first glance, but a subtle atmosphere of solitude in the oddly incomplete silence easily told him that something was wrong. Where was Takaba?

He hit the switch and the low lights came on slowly, revealing emptiness. He did not need to look to know that there was nobody there.

"Akihito?" he called all the same, knowing better than to hope that he would be answered, but Takaba's boots were still there, scruffy and little, as if he had not left. Alarm went off in his head at full blast, magnifying the monstrous headache that had been trailing him for the past few hours and bringing with it the first stirrings of real fear. He heard the sound of water running deeper inside and he went towards it, turning on the lights as he walked. "Akihito?"

His bedroom was empty, the sheets were a mess and the luxurious covers sprawled on the floor. The lights were on in the bathroom and the door stood ajar. The shower was running and he entered, wary and alarmed at the same time.

There was nobody there.

Little puddles crawled all over his spotless floor, rolls of white towels were dragged down from the shelves and they made a mess where they had fallen and unrolled. He could not understand it and he turned the water off, shocked by the icy bite of the spray where it touched the bare skin of his hand. It had been running unchecked for a long time.

Takaba had been here and something had gone very wrong. The boots that still lingered at the door were a terrible sign and he was hopelessly worried and afraid. A single thought, an awful certainty took form in his mind and he could not reason it away. Takaba had been taken from him, again, from the heart of his sanctuary, where he should have been safe. His mind raced over the overlong list of his enemies and could not settle on any of the many names.

What would they want in exchange for his boy? Oh, how he hoped that they would want something, because there was nothing that he would not give, nothing that he would not do, if only this had not been an act of senseless vengeance and he would never see his lover alive again. Cold, cold shivers raced down his spine and he was helpless. All his wealth, all his power, everything that he had spent years on accumulating were of no use to him now, not when they had failed to protect the only truly precious thing he had and would aid him little in getting him back, if those who had taken him willed it otherwise.

He raced out of his apartment, hitting speed-dial on his phone. He nearly collided with two women in the hall and he had to stop, leaning against the wall to collect his thoughts. He heard them talking, their voices a distant, annoying noise at the back of his mind.

"… have you ever seen anything like it…? How did he ever come inside…?"

"I expected more from the security here, really, I did… to allow his kind in here…"

"Akira, it's me," Asami said into the phone when the line connected. "We have an emergency."

"So ragged," he heard the woman say. "And sick, too! Goodness knows if it's contagious! I shall sue the management if I catch anything!"

"Did you see his clothes?" the other said. "Awful, simply awful! All dirty and torn and where did he find that atrocious red shirt? "

Asami's ears pricked to the conversation.

"Really, the poor simply have no sense of style!"

"And barefoot too, in this cold! Did you see?"

He froze, forgetting about the man speaking on the other side and focused fully on to the women with a terrible hope that grew so suddenly and uncontrollably, it actually hurt.

"Boss...? Boss...? Hello? Boss?"

"Never mind, Akira!" he said distractedly and cut the line.

"Where?" he asked and the women spun around, flattered and surprised by his attention. "Where did you see him?"

"Ummm," they blanked, bewildered by his presence as much as by the unexpected question.

"This boy," Asami explained with forced patience, every last ounce of his strength consumed by his effort to keep a pleasant face, "the barefoot one, with the red shirt? Where did you see him?"

"Oh, him! Security found him wandering in the lobby and tried to detain him!"

"Tried to?"

"He bit the guard and got away."

"When was this?"

"Ah, not long… five? Ten minutes ago?

"Where did he go?"

"I… I'm not sure," the woman said, frowning, as if the question demanded great mental exertion.

"Is he still in the building?" Asami asked tightly.

"Oh, yes!" she said. "He ran off into the personnel-only section and they were still looking for him when we left!"

Asami rushed off to the elevator, cutting ahead of a group of people and sliding the door closed in front of their very noses. He slumped against the wall as he rode down, the relief so strong, it dizzied him. The thought of Takaba sick, scared and confused was not good, but it was infinitely better than him being hurt, abducted and missing. Breathing in deeply, he pulled himself together and got out his phone.

"Security?" he said. "Yes… yes… Yes, I know. Don't do anything until I get there. Do you understand me? Do not do anything! Just... don't let him leave."

He snapped the phone shut, cursing the elevator for not moving as fast as he would have liked it to.

The headache that had settled abruptly when he had finally received some good news was now steadily growing again and he rubbed his temples, closing his eyes for the duration of the ride. A soft ring announced his destination and the door slid open.

Rushing, he was rushing again. Takaba always did that to him. He couldn't be calm and he could not be rational when something was wrong with his boy and he heard his yelling long before he found him. He followed it, alarmed by the distress in his voice.

"Let, go!" Takaba was crying, struggling to break away from the grip of two guards, each of which had caught one of his arms and thus engaged in this strange tug-of-war. "Let go, I tell you!"

He somehow managed to shake the one loose and kick the other, who howled in pain. Frustrated and angry to have been so caught off guard by a brat, the man cursed and pinned Takaba, twisting his arm back painfully and making him scream.

Asami's mind blanked and he stalked forward, dark and dangerous like a storm and there was madness in his eyes. He barely registered the pain in his hand as his fist violently connected with the man's jaw, bone cracking sharply in the tense air. He lifted him by his coat and slammed him against the wall.

"Don't you touch him!" he seethed. "Don't you dare ever touch him again! He is mine! Do you understand me? He is mine!"

The shocked silence barely registered in his overloaded mind and the sudden realization that he was completely out of control made his fury cool down on to a plateau where he could actually think. He was breathing hard and his heart was pounding as if it would break out of his chest. The guard looked at him in shock and in fright, blood seeping in a thick trail out of his mouth. Growling in disgust, Asami released him roughly and turned. The other had taken several steps back and Takaba sat sprawled on the floor, looking up at him with wide, bewildered eyes, as if he did not recognize him. The red mist cleared at the sight of him and he reached out.

"Akihito…" he said and took a step forward, unexpectedly hurt as Takaba drew away from him and his wide eyes narrowed in blatant mistrust. "Akihito, be a good boy and come with me now."

"I don't want to go anywhere with you!" Takaba said. "You are a bastard and I hate you!"

The vehement protest brought on a fit of coughing that both silenced and frightened him. He crawled away as Asami approached him, looking desperately from side to side, very aware that he had nowhere to go. He looked very vulnerable and alone, very small and unprotected with his dishevelled hair, his ragged hair and his bare, slender feet.

"And where will you go, if you do not come with me?" Asami asked, coming towards him slowly, careful not to distress him anymore. Takaba was not thinking clearly and he seemed very sick and very tired. "Look at the state that you are in!"

"I want to go home," Takaba said with tears in his voice and a wet shimmer in his eyes. "They won't let me go home."

"I'll take you home," Asami said and Takaba glared at him with open suspicion.

"No, no you won't," he said, curling up in the corner against the wall when he had nowhere left to go. He was shivering visibly and his perfect little ears were very red. A helpless sob escaped him, even as he shut his eyes tightly to stop his tears. Asami crouched beside him and stroked his bright hair. Takaba flinched, but he did not resist it, settling under his touch. His hair was soft and very bright, silky clean and willful between Asami's fingers.

He took of his coat and wrapped it around Takaba's trembling shoulders. The warmth of his body still lingered on it and Takaba sank into it gratefully. Asami gathered him up into his arms, shocked by the heat that he emanated. Takaba was whimpering softly and clinging. He rubbed his cheek against his, as if looking for comfort and Asami kissed him, elated with gratitude to have him so close again.

"Don't ever frighten me like that again," he told him as he carried him up. "I thought that something had happened to you."

"Like you would care," Takaba accused, shivering against him. "You left me. You left me all alone."

Asami squeezed him tight and kissed him again.

"Little fool," he said. "Don't you know by now that I shall never leave you?"


	6. Morning

"Hello, I need Dr Whitestone," he said. "Indisposed…? Is that so…? Listen to me carefully now. I have an emergency on my hands and you are wasting my time. I really don't care who he is with and what he is doing, put him on the phone immediately… Did he? Well, why don't you drag your sorry, overpaid self over to him and tell him that this is Asami speaking, I guarantee you that he will change his mind very quickly then… You do not need my first name, just tell him Asami and he will know exactly who I am…. Yes, you do that."

Takaba seemed barely conscious. His head was heavy where it leaned on Asami's shoulder and his shallow, irregular breath was interrupted every so often by a pitiful whimper of what seemed to be real, alarming pain. Asami drew his fingers through his bright, untidy hair, his palm settling at last on the boy's forehead. His skin was burning hot under the overlong fringe and this stirred the first threads of real fear. Takaba moaned, his lashes fluttering as if he would open his eyes and Asami kissed his hair, his hot ear, his jaw and then at last his lips settled on the curve of Takaba's neck, lingering there and drinking in the heat of his flesh. The warm scent of Takaba's clean skin mingled with the smell of his own shampoo and it was unbearably arousing, but the sharp, present sense that this was very wrong, very real and unmistakable, quelled most of his desire.

"Whitestone?" he snapped to attention when he recognized the voice he needed on the other side. "So, you managed to come to the phone after all… I really don't care. I need you to come over now. It's an emergency… No, no, later is not good enough… What part of 'it's an emergency' didn't you understand? I need you immediately… Does it really sound like I care about your daughter's birthday...? Need I remind you that you wouldn't even have a daughter if it wasn't for me…? I don't care what you promised her, because I seem to remember that you promised me something first. I wouldn't go back on our arrangement if I were you… It is way too late for regrets, Whitestone! You do not get refunds after selling your soul! Be here! Do not make me call you again."

He cut the line sharply, rage and impatience twining through his worry and the severe, long term lack of proper sleep. The anger in his voice seemed to register somewhere in Takaba's hazy mind and the boy stirred, opening his misty eyes to look up at him. Asami's expression softened immediately.

"How do you feel?" he asked gently, kissing his forehead and stroking his hair.

"Dying," Takaba whimpered. "I'm dying."

"No, you're not," Asami smiled. "I just found you a doctor and he will be here any minute now. I'll take care of you and you'll be fine."

Takaba groaned and slithered down, so that his head fell into Asami's lap and he lay there, shivering. Asami drew his hand under the boy's shirt to stroke the bare skin of his back and Takaba moaned, sinking into the touch like a sinuous cat. Asami stroked the hair away from his face and his fingers lingered behind his ears, at the nape of his neck and then under his collar, teasing the curve of his spine.

"Akihito, why did you put on these filthy clothes when you are so nice and clean?" he asked and Takaba raised his head to look up at him, but this seemed to be too painful and he lay back down again.

"Had to," he muttered. "Had nothing else. You left me, you did not want me. Had to go home. Still want to go home."

"Why?" Asami asked, leaning down to kiss his shoulder. "Don't you like it here? I'll take really good care of you and you will be well again in no time."

Takaba snorted in disdain and Asami laughed.

"What?" he asked in mock offence. "Don't I always nurse you back to health nicely when you are not feeling well?"

Takaba groaned and hid his face with his hands, flushing furiously.

"Your ideas of nursing should be forbidden," he said and looked out and up at him from between his fingers, before adding, "Pervert."

Asami's hand slid down low and slipped under the waist of his jeans, finding nothing underneath but bare, hot skin.

"Hmm, this is interesting," he said with humour in his voice. "No underwear?"

Akihito shuddered, his nerves painfully sensitive to even the gentlest touch.

"Couldn't find it," he muttered in embarrassment and tried to hide his face against Asami's leg.

Asami turned him, making him settle on his back, with his head pillowed on his thigh. He stroked his wild hair and Takaba looked at him with dark, tortured eyes.

"Won't you let me throw this away?" Asami asked, gathering a fistful of red, worn-out cloth, his voice dangerously edged towards pleading. Takaba looked up at him, unimpressed by his request and Asami tried coaxing him into it. "I'll get you something really nice!"

"I don't want anything from you," Takaba said. "You have no right to throw away my clothes."

"Then how about you just let me change you into something else for now?" Asami asked. "At least while I send these off to get cleaned?"

"Mmm," Takaba moaned and it did not sound exactly like consent, but it was hardly a coherent enough denial for Asami to feel obliged to take it seriously. Takaba closed his eyes, too sick to carry off a conversation, let alone an argument and Asami decided to take this unfair advantage as a definite yes.

"Wait here for just a moment," he said. He lifted Takaba up to crawl out from under him and then he set him down gently on to the couch again, as if he was something precious and fragile. "I don't think I have anything in your miniature size, but I'm sure that I can find something suitable enough for you to wear."

A weak hand grasped at his shirt and stopped him just as he was about to go. He turned to find Takaba looking at him with large, pleading eyes.

"Don't…" he began. "Please. Don't go."

Asami crouched beside him and kissed his lips tenderly.

"Just for a second," he said, stroking his cheek. "I'll be right back."

Takaba hesitated for a long moment, but then he nodded and his slender fingers uncurled reluctantly.

"O… Ok," he said. "But… but, please hurry."

Asami went through his wardrobe like a whirlwind, pulling down a soft sweater of ridiculously expensive, white cotton that he never had the time to wear because he so seldom dressed casually and the light, drawstring-pants that went with it, but Takaba was no longer conscious when he went back. He lay sprawled on the couch, his full little mouth slightly open, his breathing difficult and uneven and Asami knelt beside him to push away the hair from his hot forehead.

"Akihito?" he called him, getting no response. He lifted him to undress him and stripped off his clothes without getting even so much as a sigh of protest. He kissed his bare, tender tummy, the hot junction of his leg and the inner side of his graceful, slender thighs. The heat of his skin shocked him and made him afraid.

"Akihito?" he called him gently as he dressed him. He kissed his forehead and stroked his hair. "Akihito? Wake up. Wake up, please, my joy. Please, wake up… my love!"

It was difficult for him to speak over the hard, painful lump in his throat, but he felt that he had to, as if that would be the last chance for him to say it and it was vital for him to do so. His lips did not lie and they knew his lover's skin. They felt how hot his boy was and told him exactly how high his fever soared.

"Akihito!" he called again, lifting him up and holding him. To his infinite relief, Takaba stirred at last and moaned a little, drawing close to him, lost in a semi-conscious daze. "Wake up, please wake up!"

Takaba opened his wet eyes and looked up straight at him and Asami nearly cried with relief.

"It hurts," he complained, looking very helpless and small in clothes that were way too large for him. His cheeks were flushed and his skin dry to the touch.

"Everything will be alright," Asami said, holding him close. "The doctor will be here soon."

And where was that insufferable bastard, anyway? Hadn't he made it clear enough to him that this was an emergency?

Asami would have murdered Whitestone long ago, if he wasn't so damn good at what he did, so very useful and so completely within his power, but he really was going to kill him now, if he didn't come soon. If something happened to Takaba because he was so bloody slow, he would take his time at it and make sure that he destroyed all that the self-righteous bastard had ever held dear before his very eyes; ruin it while he stood watching, hopeless and helpless to do anything about it and then he would send him off into the ridiculous afterlife that most of the Americans he knew believed in. He would introduce him to the Hell that he kept on raving about while he still lived and make sure that after he died, the Devil that he was so afraid of would wear his, Asami's face, so that his soul could spend the rest of eternity contemplating the day when he had failed him. He would see to it that by the time he was done with him, his God would not possibly be able to come up with anything worse to do to him as punishment in death than what Asami had already done to him as punishment in life.

Takaba sobbed against him, his slender hands desperately fisting in his shirt and he took up his phone, afraid for his lover and all the more angry because of it. He waited in impatience until he was answered by the same voice as before and just then, his doorbell rang. He jumped up in surprise and in relief, cutting the line, because it seemed that the good doctor was finally there.


	7. Care

The doctor took a long look at Asami when he opened the door, taking him in from head to toe. His neat, dark hair was now down and dishevelled, the tie was gone and his usually impeccable shirt was open two buttons from the top, baring a pale triangle of his smooth, flawless chest. His sleeves were rolled up to under his elbows, bringing to attention his large, elegant hands with their long, graceful fingers.

"You don't look injured," Whitestone commented dryly, looking sour and sounding most disappointed. "I thought that you had gotten yourself shot again."

He was a pale, withered man whose stooped back made him look shorter than he really was. He had nervous, misty eyes that held the tortured look of a martyr and thin, wide lips under a long, hawk-like nose. His face was narrow, with sharply protruding bones and his sparse, yellow hair was greying quickly, though he was not yet particularly old.

"I am fine," Asami said. "I did not call you here because of me."

"A pity," the doctor said. "I had rather hoped that it would turn out to be fatal."

"Oh, do shut up and come inside," Asami said irritably. "You already took your time getting here."

"I got here as soon as I could," Whitestone retorted. "I am not a bird and I do not have wings to fly at your whim. What is this emergency? What abomination are you going to get me into now?"

"Don't worry, it's nothing that will offend your precious morals, so you can spare me the lecture," Asami said, leading the way through his clean, luxurious apartment. He slid open the light panels that concealed the living room, revealing the white couch where Takaba lay sprawled and miserable on a dark, lavish blanket, looking very small and vulnerable in the oversized clothes. "He is sick."

"What did you do to him?" the doctor asked in alarm, balking at entering the room and Asami's piercing eyes narrowed angrily.

"I didn't do anything to him!" he said and though he did not raise his voice, it dripped with menace, cutting through the air like a blade. The doctor took a step away from him, but just then, Takaba moaned softly and stirred. Asami turned towards him, his face softening immediately. "He is just not feeling well."

"He looks a bit young for your taste," Whitestone noticed, "younger than all of your minions that I know of. Is he underage?"

"Actually, no," Asami retorted, sounding offended by the question.

"Is he here against his will?"

"Not really."

"Then, why the hell did you have to call me, out of all the bloody doctors in Tokyo?" Whitestone fumed. "Wasn't there a way, a legal way that you could have gotten him help, without resorting to blackmail? I would think that you have no lack of money, or of contacts!"

"He is valuable," Asami said, looking over at Takaba. "And you were simply the fastest solution that I had at my disposal. Besides, obnoxious as you are, you are very good at what you do. I would have killed you for your lack of manners years ago, if you were not. I think that I do not need to remind you, that the day when you prove me wrong on this point, will be your last."

Whitestone sighed heavily and shook his head as he unbuttoned his coat.

"What's wrong with him?" he asked. Asami went over to the couch and stroked his boy's bright hair, smiling slightly when the large, glazed eyes fluttered open to look at him sullenly.

"He was very hot when I found him this morning," he said. "He complained of a headache and said that his throat hurts. His nose is blocked and he is having trouble breathing. He is weak and it seems that his entire body aches."

"Is he coughing?"

"Yes."

"Sounds like a nasty cold," the doctor said indifferently. "Nothing unusual at this time of the year, not with this miserable weather."

"A cold?" Asami asked, as if surprised by such a simple diagnosis.

"Is there any reason why I should assume otherwise?"

"Well…" Asami said reluctantly. "He did spend yesterday in the snow, wet and not particularly warmly dressed. So I assume that it could be just a cold."

Whitestone looked at him with intense hatred for one long moment and then he shook his head.

"You are insufferable," he said. "You cannot even begin to understand what you have ruined for me with this. I can only hope that you will get all that you deserve some day. "

"Oh, spare me, please!" Asami said impatiently. "I am tired of your discontent! You knew the terms of our agreement long before you accepted my favours! It is too late for regrets now, when you have to pay your dues!"

The doctor's fists clenched and unclenched, his face twisting and his sickly eyes blazing, but he said nothing, because there was nothing that he could say. There could be no arguing with this, because Asami was right. Asami was always right. He sank deeper and deeper into everything he knew to be wrong with every demand Asami made of him, but it was a fact that, though he had known what it would cost, he had still sold himself to this cold, merciless man who did not even have a soul that he could lose, because he did not feel and did not reason like normal people do.

Whitestone had known what Asami was when he had gone to him. He had known that Asami did not understand the difference between good and evil and that Asami had never felt anyone's pain other than his own, but he had walked straight into the den of his darkness anyway, out of his own free will, lured there by his own weakness, tempted to transgression by the strength of his own base desires.

All of this was just a part of the price that he had to pay for his sins. These were only the beginnings of his punishment. All the years that he had to spend in servitude to this man who was so far above the law, he would never be brought to justice by the strength of a mortal hand, were just a prelude to the eternity of his suffering in Hell. He no longer had the right to choose anything.

"Lift his shirt," Whitestone said, getting his stuff out of a large, worn-out leather bag.

"Akihito," Asami called gently and the boy groaned, curling away from the sound of his voice, as if he could shut it out by doing so. "Akihito, wake up. The doctor wants to take a look at you."

Takaba opened his eyes slowly and in spite of the general contempt that he felt for all of Asami's subordinates (himself included), Whitestone had to notice that they really were lovely eyes, wide, big and still very bright in spite of his miserable condition. Asami coaxed him up, causing a mellow protest that the boy seemed to be too weak to put any serious effort into.

Takaba glared evilly while Asami helped him out of his shirt, as if he was responsible for all of his discomforts. When he was done, he moved out of the way, but still chose to hover nearby, watching with sharp, relentless eyes every move that Whitestone made and the doctor felt cold slivers of discomfort squirming down his spine. He took a deep breath, gathering his self-control to stop his hands from shaking, because the moment he had come close enough to this golden- haired youth to feel the heat emanating from his smooth, pretty skin, he had suddenly felt as if he was walking over dangerously thin ice.

"Breathe deeply for me," the doctor said, adjusting his stethoscope.

Takaba tried to obey, but his attempt ended in a fit of violent coughing that brought Asami to his side in a second. He stroked his back soothingly until the coughing subsided and Takaba hid his face against his shirt, moaning quietly, sick and miserably weak in his arms.

"You are in my way," Whitestone said tightly. Asami glared, but he moved in spite of his misgivings, tense and bristling, with his arms folded across his chest. Takaba shifted in discomfort and the doctor's hand accidentally brushed against his silky skin. The impact of the touch raced through his blood like a shock, stirring him, rousing him, bringing forth desires that he had thought were long forgotten and it both scared and disgusted him.

He had always loathed men like Asami and their indulgences in base, unnatural lusts, but he succumbed to his need to run his palm over the boy's graceful spine anyway, against his own better judgment. He marvelled at how soft Takaba's skin felt under his thin, nervous fingers and how hot and luxurious it was. He wondered how much one had to pay for such remarkable beauty, because skin like Takaba's was so incredibly rare, especially in a young man. He hurried with his examination, flustered and afraid that it would not escape Asami's sharp gaze. He read the thermometer and frowned.

"He has a nasty fever," he said. "It is very high. I'll write you a prescription and the medicine should bring it down quickly. You can send one of your pathetic, scurrying little pawns to fetch it for you. I'll also give you something for his cough, as well as these drops for his nose. They should clear up the worst of the symptoms."

"Is that all?" Asami asked when Whitestone handed him the piece of paper with his scrawl all over it and got up to begin packing his things.

"Yes," the doctor said. "There is not much else that I can do for you. He should be feeling considerably better before tonight and he will recover completely in a few days."

"Are you sure?"

"He is down with a cold. It is hardly a life-threatening condition. But, you have to bring the fever down. If it does not drop in a few hours, or if you notice that he is getting worse, then you should take him to a hospital for more serious testing. I doubt that this will be necessary, though."

Whitestone took his coat and Asami followed him out.

"See to it that he drinks a lot of liquids and vitamin C," he said as he put on his shoes. "Also, make sure that he eats properly. He looks a bit malnourished. Aren't you paying him enough?"

"I am not paying him at all," Asami remarked darkly, his face stern and his eyes narrow.

"No? Are you blackmailing him, then?" Whitestone said.

"Don't test my temper, fool," Asami warned.

"So, my guess is a close one," Whitestone said, gloating to see this weakness revealed. "Not that it's much of a feat at deduction. Only a complete idiot would be with you willingly, or with nothing to gain, at best."

"Don't assume that you know anything about us!" Asami said in a deadly quiet voice.

"Ah, so that's it? That's what you want?" Whitestone said, grinning slowly, with bitter, unconcealed malice. "For him to care?"

"Shut up."

"Well, well! It seems like we all long for something that we cannot have! Even you, the all-powerful, unreachable god of the underworld! Don't delude yourself, Asami! He will never love you; just like no one else has ever loved you before him! And how could they? How could anyone in their right mind feel anything but hatred for a creature such as you? You cannot even be called a man. You are evil incarnate and as such, not deserving even of pity."

Asami snarled and slammed him against the wall, the doctor's head striking against it with a painful, frightening thud.

"Are you done?" Asami breathed, dark, angry and enraged as Whitestone struggled for breath under his suffocating grip, shocked into silence by the violence of the reaction. "Because if you are not, I would advise you to stop right now anyway, while I still have some semblance of control left over me!"

He shook the doctor hard, enjoying it while the man gasped and gurgled, watching in malicious amusement as his face change colours from red to blue.

"And one more thing!" he seethed, his clear, narrow eyes burning. "The next time you touch my lover in any way except the strictly professional one, I shall cut off your hand without stopping to worry how you will perform all the future surgeries that I shall demand of you without it!"

He threw him out into the hallway and just as he was about to close the door, Whitestone gathered himself and turned.

"Asami!" he rasped hoarsely, holding his hand to his aching throat. "Whether your brat gets better or not, do not call me again!"

Asami's cruel, perfect mouth lifted in an evil smile.

"If he does not get better," he said, "I shall not call you. I shall kill you."

And with a decisive thud, he smacked the door shut.


	8. Noon

A door slammed shut and roused Takaba from a difficult, unpleasant slumber which seethed with nasty, heavy dreams that made him feel very unclean. He was disoriented, alone and not familiar with the room that he was in. Had there been a doctor here, or had he only dreamed him? He seemed to remember him being real, but he had been unpleasant enough to qualify as something conjured up by his uneasy drifting between awareness and sleep.

But Asami was close and there could be no doubt about it. This was his home and he was in it, he could tell from the way that every out-of-place detail breathed of his presence. The air was warmer than usual, the light was brighter, even the neat, sterile, elegantly placed furniture seemed more alive. Takaba heard him moving in the hall and he forced himself up, stretching and groaning with the pain that it caused him. His neck hurt and his back throbbed. His legs felt wobbly and when he tried to stand, he nearly fell, because he was so dizzy and weak.

Gathering his strength, he padded towards the sound of Asami's soft footsteps and the alarming clatter that accompanied their trail. Holding on to the wall for just in case, Takaba made it to what looked like a large, expensive, but abominably unused kitchen. Asami stood at the counter, fumbling with an electric boiler, swearing at it under his breath and scowling, for all appearance looking as if he thought that threatening the little appliance would make it work.

Takaba almost didn't recognize him, as if he wasn't real. The man he saw looked like Asami, he had the same lines of the face, the same eyes, the same mouth, same wonderful hands. He was just as tall, just as slender, just as perfectly graceful as Asami always was, but there was something very off about him, something that Takaba did not ever remember seeing before. Was he dreaming again?

Asami's shirt was unbuttoned and crumpled, he wore no tie and he had no coat. His dark, soft hair was down and dishevelled, his narrow eyes were angry and burning, his perfect lips were set tightly and his face was alive with emotion that was so different from the cool, relentless mask he always wore for everyone, except for when he made love to him and allowed his shields to fall, but that did not count, because they were not in bed now and Takaba could look at him freely, with his sight unclouded by the roar of passion that made the entire world seemed distorted, enlarged and far brighter than it really was.

As if by a revelation, Takaba was suddenly struck by how incredibly beautiful he was and this made something warm and uncontrollable swell large in his heart. He wondered why he had never noticed it before and his slow, hazy mind finally grasped at what it was that was so subtly different about Asami now. He was used to seeing him impeccable, perfect and controlled and this new picture of him almost came as a shock.

In spite of all his numerous skills, Asami was very out of place in his own kitchen, utterly outclassed and defeated by a simple apparatus. He looked vulnerable, in spite of his strength, open and hurting under his rage and with his masks gone, he was gorgeous, as if all the imperfections that he now wore made him all the more perfect, because with them, he looked bright and alive, he looked touchable and near and he looked human in ways that he had never been before with anyone. It made him irresistibly appealing.

"Work, you… stupid, stupid… thing…!" Asami fumed and smashed the boiler against the counter, making Takaba jump in fright. "Work!"

He seethed, blazing in his fury, magnificent in his complete loss of temper. He slammed the contraption down hard with every word, stopping only when the bottom disconnected and the whole thing fell apart, splashing water all over the counter. He stepped away in shock, barely avoiding getting wet and then he breathed hard, looking at the mess, as if he did not fully comprehend the meaning of it all.

"Asami?" Takaba questioned and had the pleasure to see Asami's narrow, angry eyes widen in surprise to see him there, the rage in them dissipating into liquid, flowing turmoil. His entire face softened, filling with tenderness and a deep, heartbreaking sorrow. "What are you doing?"

"Ah…" he said, looking a little confused and profoundly embarrassed. "I was making you some tea, but this… this stupid thing wouldn't work."

He gave the boiler one last, half-hearted smack and Takaba's eyes fixed on its loose, coiled cord.

"Umm…" he said, trying very hard not to laugh. "I think that you were supposed to plug it into a socket first!" The look of utter bewilderment on Asami's face cracked his control in spite of his best intentions, but his laughter morphed into a fit of coughing as soon as it began, killing his mirth and bringing him down on to his knees in utter misery.

Asami rushed to his side, picking him up.

"What are you doing here, anyway?" he said, hiding all his worries behind a thin façade of anger. "You have to rest! I'll tie you to a bed if you don't behave yourself!"

"And what would be so new about that?" Takaba muttered, wretched and shaken as he was carried back into the living room. Asami glared.

"Are you trying to be clever with me, Akihito?" he said threateningly and Takaba smiled up at him, failing to be intimidated, not with all that he had just seen still fresh in his mind. He wrapped his arms tightly around Asami's neck and rubbed their cheeks together. Asami was hard and tense, Takaba could feel the darkness swirling inside of him, the unease, the strain and the stress that he kept piling and piling until his body couldn't contain it anymore and it sought a way to break out.

"You were so sweet," he said, smirking and hiding it against Asami's chest, but knowing that he would feel it anyway. "But I think that you had better order room service to bring some breakfast up. Your culinary skills may just kill us both."

Asami put him down on to the couch and looked at him with glinting, malicious eyes.

"You think that I'll let you get away with that, just because you are sick?" he said evilly and Takaba snickered at the question.

He didn't think so, he was sure of it and Asami knew it, so he had to smile too, in spite of himself.

"Brat," he said lovingly and gathered Takaba up into his arms, burying his face into his hair and breathing in deeply the scent of him. He seemed very distressed and Takaba curled against him, settling into his warmth, instinctively knowing that this would soothe whatever it was that was bothering him. He purred in his hold and Asami kissed him, deeply, tenderly, desperately, the tension in his body dissolving, until his arms became gentle again and the desperation of his touch molded into a calm, warm protectiveness.

"You are so precious," Asami whispered against his neck. "You know that, don't you?

Takaba moaned in response, drifting again. He was not going to sleep. He was so not going to let himself sleep, because this felt too good. He loved being held by Asami because it was so safe, so warm in his arms. He felt special when Asami touched him like this, he felt valuable and it was wonderful. He did not have the strength, or the will, to wonder what this incredible warmth actually meant, he just wanted it to go on forever and that was why he was going to stay awake, because he wanted to keep it, he wanted to make it last.

"Akihito?" Asami questioned softly, the tender kiss of his warm breath slithering over his ear and making him shudder from the pleasure it made him feel.

"Mmm…" he mumbled and his lover laughed at his lack of coherence.

Asami pulled a soft shirt over his head, the white one, the soft one and Takaba moaned in pleasure, his entire body shimmering when the warm cloth enveloped his skin. Asami lifted it up to kiss his bare tummy.

"You like it?" he asked.

"It feels like you," Takaba answered and he smiled, all the darkness gone from his eyes.

"Akihito…" he ventured again, but then he hesitated. He didn't say it, as if the fleeting shadow that crossed his face had silenced him.

"What?" Takaba asked and Asami collected himself. He smiled once more, but this time it was sad.

"Nothing."

He settled Takaba's head on to his lap, his long, clever fingers drifting through his hair, stroking it, smoothing it, lingering around his tender ears and Takaba moaned, his hand curling against Asami's thigh, in the dark, expensive flannel of his pants. Could it be that he was dreaming already? He had to be, none of this could possibly be real, because Asami was never this nice. He was a bastard by nature and there was no way that he could be so warm and appealing. Damn the cold and the fever, it was causing him hallucinations, even if they were of a most pleasant kind.

"Kirishima? Were you asleep?" Asami was talking on his phone. That sounded normal, Asami always talked on his phone. "That's too bad. I need you to do something for me… I've done something stupid and I need you to fix it before it gets out of hand… no, it's nothing like that. I punched out my head of security, here at Grand Hills… I think that I broke his jaw. Find out what hospital he is in, see to it that all his expenses are covered and make sure that he is given the best treatment that money can buy. And, Kirishima, I do mean the best. Give him a decent compensation, he deserves it. He has always been loyal and I owe him… Yes, that sounds reasonable… Listen, I also need you to stop by my place before you go, I've got a prescription here for some medication and I need you to go to a pharmacy… No, I am fine. They are not for me… Yes, as a matter of fact, there is something else that you can do… Stop by the grocery on your way here and pick up some oranges… yes, I did say oranges… and some lemons too… no, that would be it… or, wait, let me think… what else is rich with vitamin C…? By the way, I am taking a couple of days off, so see to it that you cancel all my appointments for this week… You heard me well, all of them…"

Drifting in a haze of confusion, Takaba firmly concluded that he really must be asleep. He would have laughed if he'd had the strength at the thought of Asami's stern, elegant assistant in a grocery store, the dark glasses hiding his eyes as he threatened the lady there with a shotgun for fruit. It was a pity that he hadn't managed to stay awake, though, even if he couldn't remember anymore why it had been important for him to do so.

With that single, sweet regret, he yawned and drifted into darkness, losing himself down the paths of real, wandering sleep, warm in Asami's clothes, comfortable on Asami's lap, protected by his overwhelming, welcome presence. In spite of all of his doubts and discomforts, all of it still felt undeniably good.


	9. Love

Asami overturned the bag that Kirishima had brought him and dumped its contents on to the mattress. Takaba tossed and turned in the bed beside him, hurting and uncomfortable, moaning miserably every so often before drifting again, lost in a semi-conscious state that brought him neither rest, nor relief. Worried, Asami knelt beside him, dipping a soft cloth into the water and first wiping his neck with it, then his chest, and at last, his cheeks, before leaving it to rest for a while on his hot forehead. Wet strands of hair clung to Takaba's face, but the skin dried quickly, burning from the fever.

Scowling, Asami snatched up one of the cardboard boxes containing the medication and cursed the pharmacist as he struggled to decipher the abominable handwriting scrawled on to the side that explained the timings and the dosage. Words fled in front of him, crawling like real, living, black spiders and he had to squeeze his eyes shut to stop the letters from moving.

His head felt as if it was about to split and he wondered if there was anything among the little pills that he could take, though he seriously doubted anything short of a bullet could kill the monstrous headache, which was doing a wonderful job of orchestrating a disastrous symphony all over his strained, throbbing nerves. He had to fight for focus.

"Akihito," he called gently, lifting his boy carefully. "Come on, wake up."

Takaba moaned, hiding his face against Asami's chest.

"You have to take your medicine," Asami said, bringing up a spoonful of thick, deep-red syrup that smelled of something disgustingly fruity and sweet and he had to sympathize when Takaba turned his head away from it, miserably. He kissed his hair soothingly. "Open your eyes for me!"

Takaba squinted from under his wild hair, very unhappy about the idea of drinking it. He shuddered bodily as he forced himself to swallow and whimpered, his hands clenching and unclenching against Asami's chest.

"One more," Asami said, breaking a tab and pulling out a red-blue capsule from the foil. Takaba eyed it suspiciously, making no move to take it.

"What is it?" he asked.

"The doctor prescribed it," Asami said, not surprised by the blatant mistrust, but hurt by it all the same. "It should bring your fever down."

Takaba hesitated and Asami nudged him slightly.

"Come on," he urged and Takaba scowled.

"I don't want to," he said.

"You have to."

Takaba shook his head vigorously and closed his eyes again

"Akihito…"

"No."

"Baby, please," Asami begged.

"No."

"Akihito, take this pill right now!"

"No!"

"Akihito, this is your last warning!"

"No!"

Asami sighed. He did not have the patience for this. He had tried to be nice about it, he really had, but Takaba had to be difficult, and he hated it when something that should have been simple caused him undue trouble.

He shifted to get the leverage he needed and wrapped his arm around Takaba to hold him in place. With an iron grip on his jaw, he forced it open. Takaba yelped and struggled, writhing bodily as he fought to dislodge the grasp, but Asami was too strong for him even on his best days, let alone when he was this weak and disoriented. The pill was forced between his lips, to the back of his tongue, and a hand clamped over his nose and his mouth, suffocating him and forcing him to swallow reflexively.

Takaba struggled, panicking; fighting to scream and every muffled sound he made irritated his burning throat. Asami released him as soon as he had swallowed and the boy erupted into a violent fit of coughing, bursting into tears from the strain it caused to his already wretched body.

"Shh…" Asami soothed him gently, rubbing his back, stroking his hair and Takaba curled unhappily, trying to get himself under control. Angry and miserable, he shied away from Asami's touch, but didn't get far. When his coughing had calmed, Asami gathered him up into his arms and held him there as cried, struggling to break away.

"Bastard…" he moaned. "Let go! Let go of me!"

"Shh…" Asami said and kissed his tangled hair, his hold not giving an inch. "Shh..."

"You are such a jerk!" Takaba accused with feeling, his struggles getting weaker and weaker by the second, as he exhausted himself into submission. Asami held him close while he sobbed, kissing him, stroking his hair, his arms, his back.

"I had to do it," he said, with something like an apology in his voice, which Takaba was too unhappy to hear. "It is for your own good. Here, drink some water."

Takaba drank gratefully, spilling most of it before he was done. He went limp against Asami, his body jerking to irregular spasms as he sobbed helplessly in his arms. Asami felt his flushed forehead, frowning at the heat he found there. Salty trails of tears stained Takaba's cheeks and he licked them clean, making the boy whimper and hide against him. He wet the cloth again and wrung the water out. Tenderly, he cleaned Takaba's face and the boy moaned, shuddering.

"Does it feel good?" Asami asked and Takaba shut his moist, swollen eyes stubbornly, refusing to admit it. Asami took the shirt off of him and lay him back down on to the bed, wiping his hot neck, his chest, all the down his slim, twitching tummy and low under the rim of the soft, loose pants, cooling him. Takaba's sobs dwindled, his breath becoming more even and regular as he eased and arched into the pleasant touch. Asami drew the trail his hand was going to take with his lips, kissing the hot skin. Takaba moaned softly under him and Asami pulled the pants down, spreading his boy's thighs. Overwhelmed by the heat that he found there, Asami shuddered bodily from the irresistible need to lose himself in it. He leaned down to kiss the junction of Takaba's leg, first with his lips, then with his tongue and Takaba yelped, arching off of the bed.

"Shh…" Asami urged him back down, stroking his thighs soothingly. Takaba's wild, heavy breath evened out and Asami rubbed his cheek against the smooth, sensitive skin under Takaba's navel, thoroughly enjoying the way that his flesh trembled and quivered, so hot, so wonderfully alive where he touched it.

Asami loved the smell of Takaba's skin, the loved the taste of it. He loved having him helpless under him, writhing, moaning and begging, and there was something disturbingly appealing in having him so weak and pliant, so utterly unwilling, so incapable of enduring what Asami wanted to do, so obviously not competent to give anything reasonably even resembling consent.

It was simply too tempting.

"Ah… no… Don't!" Takaba moaned as Asami pulled his pants off completely, leaving him naked, vulnerable and exposed.

Asami's eyes darkened as he looked at him, because he was so deliciously small, so proportionally undersized, so slender and gracefully athletic.

Utterly perfect.

Asami's erection twitched and though he had no idea where it thought that he would find the energy to do anything about it, he thought it a most pleasant sensation anyway, because it overrode his worry, his anger and his strain. He leaned down again, spreading Takaba's thighs wider, making space to lie between them and kiss first the one, and then the other. His tongue trailed up higher and he glowed with pleasure when Takaba hardened from a long, slow lick on the underside of his limp cock, his already uneven breath hitching even more.

"S… stop it…!" the boy moaned. "Ah… no! Stop it, you… you… pervert!"

"Shh…" Asami said, holding his hips down when he tried to squirm away. "I'll be good to you. I know what you like."

He took him into his mouth and Takaba screamed from the sensation, arching and then falling again, too weak for the effort it had cost. Asami teased him, licking and sucking gently, feeling him harden gradually and leaving him there, trapped in slow, swelling pleasure. Takaba moaned, thrashing his head from side to side, crying again, very unprepared for this and very incapable of enduring it.

"A… Asami, please," he begged, shivering. "S… stop!"

"Shh…" Asami soothed again, stroking his elegant shaft, easily holding him in place with one firm hand on his slender hip. He took him into his mouth again, enjoying it, the sheer excitement of making his boy writhe undoing the tension in his body, relaxing him, soothing his headache, silencing it, leaving nothing behind but a warm contentment and comfortable fatigue.

Everything vanished, until only the two of them remained, until, in the end there was only him, lost in the closeness of his lover's body, sinking into his warmth, into his scent. Takaba had a strange effect on him, making all the darkness, all his misery go away as if by magic, leaving him pleased, relaxed and almost… content.

He should not take too long at this, neither of them had the stamina for it. He glanced up at his boy, delighting in his shivers. Takaba panted, covering his eyes with his hand and Asami smiled. He took his sack into his hands and kneaded gently, applying just the right pressure. Takaba moaned, and then he yelped, his entire body tensing as he came into Asami's mouth. Asami swallowed, reluctant to let him go, feeling him relax, listening to his breath even out and his sobs settle into silence.

He raised himself, wiping a trail of come from his lips with his thumb and then licking it clean as Takaba watched him darkly between his fingers, his pretty mouth curved downwards in a charming scowl, his cheeks flushing in sudden embarrassment.

Asami smirked in amusement and Takaba turned away, hiding from him.

"You are too cute," Asami said, kissing his shoulder. "I love it when you blush."

He wet the cloth again, cleaning his boy's damp skin. Takaba was pliant and limp under his caress, too exhausted to do anything but breathe, drifting on the edge of consciousness.

"Pervert," he muttered a half-hearted complaint and Asami smiled. He settled down into the bed beside him, pulling Takaba into his embrace, the boy's slender back touching all the way down his bare chest. Asami was still hard, but it was not unbearable. He would take care of it later, he decided, when he too had gotten some sleep and had the energy to do something good about it. Wickedly, he bit down on Takaba's ear, not hard enough for real pain, but strong enough to make his boy shudder all over from it.

"You are such a bastard," Takaba muttered sleepily and Asami kissed his neck. "I hate you so much…"

"Yeah?" Asami said and then breathed out so quietly, it was barely a whisper, "I have strong feelings for you too, brat."

But Takaba was already fast asleep and couldn't have heard him, even if it had been audible.


	10. Evening

Takaba woke up and squirmed in sleepy protest, failing to evade the wet, clever tongue that was sneaking wicked patterns inside the shell of his very sensitive ear. The frustrating tingles spread in waves over him, until he could hardly stand it and had to open his heavy, unwilling eyes. Large, strong hands roamed freely over his bare skin, bringing with them feelings that Takaba was not ready for. Asami stroked down his sides and his entire body burst into a flare of sensation.

"Asami, stop it!" he complained sleepily, dizzy and disoriented, his body overly sensitive to any kind of touch in its weakened state and even the slide of the soft sheets felt unbearable against his hot skin.

Asami's closeness overwhelmed him and he moaned. He lay on his stomach, no doubt deliberately positioned like that, with all the covers gone, open and revealed, at the mercy of Asami's eyes, of his lips and his hands.

"Mmm," Asami breathed in his hair, the murmur hardly a response to anything, but more a sign of the general appreciation he felt for Takaba's warmth. "Good to see that you are awake," he said, resonating a smug satisfaction that Takaba did not like the sound of. "It is almost time for you to take your medicines, and you will take them like a good boy, without giving me trouble, won't you, Akihito? Or… there will be consequences."

He bit down on to Takaba's nape and the boy yelped, instinctively trying to pull away, but not getting far. Asami leaned down over him, trapping him with his body. "Shh…" he soothed, quelling the brief struggle that ensued by gathering Takaba's wrists and pinning them above his head with one hand. "Shh, my joy, you do not want me to tie you down, do you?"

Takaba tensed all over, his eyes going wide. Asami wouldn't, or… would he? Guessing the answer to that question easily enough, he stilled, his mind trying to wrap around the situation he was in. He thought that he recognized Asami's bedroom in the dim light. He kind of remembered coming there with him after work last night… or at least he thought that it had been last night, because he seemed to have a huge gap in his memory which, he was sure, concealed something that was drastically important in the general scheme of his life. As hard as he tried, he could recall nothing but misty, infuriating dreams swimming in and out from grey blanks, mixing with each other, overlapping and making no sense.

He felt miserable, his head spun, his throat hurt and he could hardly breathe through his nose. His back ached down its entire length and he really, really did not look forward to Asami's intimate attentions. A hand smoothed over his spine, making him shudder, and then it was gone, only to come back a moment later as two lubed fingers gently slipped into his hole.

"No!" he gasped, his entire body tensing up shock. His breath hitched and he struggled, forgetting all about Asami's threat in the face of this worse, more imminent evil. He writhed, wanting out and wanting away, Asami's relentless strength and the obvious promise of what he was going to do to him making him panic. He struggled to breathe, because difficult as it had been, this made it so much worse. The heat of Asami's flesh surrounded him, the deliberate hint of his weight holding him in place. "Asami, stop!"

The exertion irritated Takaba's raw, burning throat and his chest ached with the sudden heaving breath. He erupted into a fit of violent coughing that both stilled and intimidated him. Asami let go of his hands until it passed, letting him curl on to his side and stroking his back as he lay there, trembling. Takaba whimpered, his lashes wet from tears, and Asami kissed him with surprising tenderness, waiting for his breath to calm and the quivers to dwindle away.

"See what happens when you disobey me?" he said sternly, even though his voice remained gentle. His arm slid around Takaba's waist to keep him still as the other hand continued what it had been doing, slipping in deep and then stretching him, flirting on the edge between pleasure and pain in the midst of the tense muscles that so did not want it to be there. "Be a good boy for me now, Akihito, or I will punish you."

"Asami, please!" Takaba begged hoarsely, hovering on the verge of losing control. "I can't do this! I am sick!"

"I'll be gentle," Asami told him and buried his face in the hollow between his shoulder and neck, breathing in deeply the scent of his skin. "I know how much you can take."

Takaba moaned as a third finger slipped inside, stretching him open with a delicious twinge of real pain. He twisted, failing to evade the intrusion and Asami pressed against that spot inside of him, making him arch and spasm in sharp, relentless pleasure.

"Ah…" Takaba groaned. "Wa… wait, Asami, please, wait!"

"Why?" Asami said, showing no intention to obey. He was hard and ready, Takaba could feel the heat of him, the unforgiving size of his organ rubbing over the small of his back, slipping marginally lower with each, rhythmic move and he shuddered, knowing exactly where it wanted to go.

"Isn't it time for me to take my medicines?" Takaba desperately tried to distract him. "You yourself said that it was!"

Asami narrowed his eyes mockingly, because he knew immediately what Takaba was up to, as if he could read his mind.

"I said, it is almost time for you to take your medicines," he corrected. "But not yet. You let me worry about that and I'll make sure that you take them when you are supposed to. We have plenty of time to spare, so we might as well do something good about it."

His voice dripped with satisfaction and warm pleasure that confounded Takaba as much as it flustered him. It was never a good thing for him when Asami was in a good mood. Without his foul temper to bank it, Asami's playful side emerged unhindered, looking for amusement. Then, their sessions tended to stretch out for far longer than Takaba could bear, fueled by the man's twisted imagination, and in his current state, he was afraid that one of them would kill him.

"You are enjoying this, aren't you?" Takaba said miserably, guessing the reasons behind Asami's good mood. "Just so that you know, you are a complete bastard."

"Hardly," Asami said, trailing kisses. "I just feel like I am entitled to some reward after everything that you have put me through today. And make no mistake; I do intend to collect my dues."

He bit down on Takaba's ear and the boy squealed, shuddering.

"Reward?" he gasped in outrage. He squirmed and Asami stilled him by placing a firm hand on to his hip, while he kissed his arm and lingered there, rubbing his cheek against Takaba's smooth, sensitive skin, as if he enjoyed the feel of it. "Reward for what?"

"Your fever is down," Asami said, sounding almost… happy about it.

Was it? Takaba could not tell. He still felt miserable. His head spun, his nose was blocked, he was dizzy and weak and his back hurt abominably with every desperate spasm he attempted in his hopeless goal to escape.

"Y…yeah?" he said. "So?"

"So… don't you feel the need to thank me properly?" Asami answered and Takaba scowled, exhausting himself quickly by his ridiculously futile attempt at a struggle.

"To thank you?" he cried unhappily, breathing hard. "What for?"

He felt Asami smile against him again.

"For taking such good care of you," he said, incredibly pleased with himself.

"Wh… what…?" Takaba gasped, the pillow muffling his protests as he tried to hide against it and escape Asami's wicked mouth on his neck, the teeth biting down and the tongue licking over the mark, as if to soothe the pain. Takaba could already see the bruises that he was going to have. "You will probably kill me before you are done!"

"Don't be ridiculous," Asami said. "Who would I have to play with, if I killed you? Nobody can quite measure up to your level of cuteness."

"Ugh," Takaba groaned. Asami crooked his fingers inside of him and twisted them, making him thrust and his muscles contract.

"See, how you enjoy it!" Asami gloated. "Look how hard you are and I have hardly even begun! You are so ready for me. You body does not lie."

It was true, Takaba was erect. The desperate, blushing head leaking precome all over Asami's hand as he stroked it, proving his point.

"Pervert," Takaba accused, fuming over it. "Don't you have somewhere else to be now? Like… maybe, at work? Aren't there weapons to smuggle? People to kill? A country to rip off for millions?"

The hand withdrew from his liberally lubed, most thoroughly prepared opening and Asami shifted, positioning himself to push inside. He slid in slowly, the stretching pain making Takaba's body respond to the anticipation of the intense pleasure that was yet to come, dizzying him and almost blanking him out.

"You'll be glad to know that I took the week off," Asami said. "So, I am all yours for now and my full attention will be dedicated to taking care of you! Won't that be fun, my cute Akihito? Just you and me, alone for five days?"

Five days? Takaba wasn't sure he could survive even one!

"Aah," he moaned, fighting very hard not to thrust into Asami's hand, even if he did want it, almost more than he wanted to breathe. "Please, don't waste your precious time on my account!"

"Mmm," Asami murmured, pulling Takaba tight against his chest.

"But I am not wasting my time," he said. "My attention does not come for free."

"Why am I not surprised?" Takaba groaned.

"You will… pay… for… my… care… most… thoroughly…" Asami explained, pausing between every word to trail feather-light, frustrating kisses over Takaba's shoulder and arm. "There'll be plenty of time for you to show your appreciation for everything that I do. I'm sure that we'll come up with a mutually satisfying… arrangement."

"Bastard," Takaba breathed and Asami smirked.

Inch by slow, careful inch he entered Takaba's slim, trembling body until he was fully immersed, only to stay there, buried deep and enjoying it, in no hurry to thrust his way to completion, leaving the boy shuddering on the edge of an orgasm.

"You want to come, don't you?" Asami purred, content like a lazy cat in sunlight. "Don't worry, I'll be lenient because you are so sick and let you come as often as you like… But, only if you are good."

Takaba cried with frustration, his hands fisting and clawing in the soft, expensive sheets. He already knew that he would rip them to shreds before the night was over.

"Aah… you… you… pervert…" he cursed. "I hope that you catch whatever it is that I've got!"

Asami laughed a soft, warm laugh that vibrated all the way down Takaba's spine and the boy arched in pleasure that was too intense for his weakened body to endure. Asami pulled out slowly and then he thrust into him again, a hot, living presence deep inside, pressing against his prostate and making him scream from the intensity of the feeling. He bit down on to Takaba's delicate ear and then he breathed over it, his hot breath tickling over Takaba's overactive nerves and sending him into futile, helpless spasms that only served to deepen the longing.

Evilly, Asami whispered, "I am immune."


End file.
